


Hoverboards and Plasma-guns

by mimichama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cop!Castiel, M/M, Multi, Science-Fiction AU, Space-Pirate!Dean, Space-Pirate!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimichama/pseuds/mimichama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In that case I suggest you either get behind me or leave this section. The Winchesters are dangerous and unpredictable, and we don’t know where exactly they’re hiding. Things could get violent and I assume you don’t want to get hurt in the crossfire.”</p><p>The gravelly, stiff tone of this voice is far more familiar. Dean smirks. The game is on.</p><p>Or:<br/>Dean and Sam are Space-Pirates and Castiel is hot on their trail.</p><p>Ratings will go up in later chapters. Content warnings, character & relationship tags will be added as they come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester has rarely felt this out of place before. He’s sitting on a stiff, plastic chair, feet propped on the desk in front of him. An actual library, the biggest library of the Universe to be precise, situated in the highly guarded Delta-sector of the Kansas Galaxy, Planet X5-494. From what he’s seen while landing half the planet is a library, its surface covered in long, stretching halls, and each of them is filled to the brim with saved data of seemingly every planet, race and extinct culture of the Universe. This particular hall is stuffed with what Sammy calls books, thick but fragile and completely boring since they contain neither film nor sound. It’s Sam’s fault that he’s even here in the first place, his brother practically begging him to take the detour. Damn those stupid puppy-eyes of his. He hasn’t seen the Sasquatch since they’ve arrived, his brother disappearing behind the ceiling-high shelves with a spring in his step that makes coming here almost worth it. Almost.

Unlike Sam, Dean feels uneasy amongst the shelves filled with what Dean considers dead trees – despite its size he hall has only got two exits, situated on opposite walls that are completely out of sight of each other, and he feels as if anyone could just sneak up on him from between the shelves. This place is so not for him. His foot starts tingling where he’s crossed it beneath the other, motivating him to get up and search for his brother. Surely they’ve stayed long enough now.

He’s only passed through two rows of shelves when he hears voices nearing, ringing all of his internal alarm bells. Dean tenses and quickly ducks into one of the reading-niches that are conveniently placed between each row of shelves. It’s as brightly illuminated as the rest of the library but crouching beneath the desk will have to do for a hiding spot. There’s simply no way that they’d run into anyone per chance in this lonely part of X5-494 and Dean’s instincts when it comes to survival have always been reliable.

“No, Sir, I wouldn’t lie about this. The Bioscanners said it’s them and they've never failed us before.” Dean doesn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but she speaks with the slightly lisp that’s so typical of X5-494’s habitants so she probably works here, a supervisor or librarian of some kind. He could kick himself. Bioscanners, of course. They should’ve known, really. Getting in had been far too easy.

“In that case I suggest you either get behind me or leave this section. The Winchesters are dangerous and unpredictable, and we don’t know where exactly they’re hiding. Things could get violent and I assume you don’t want to get hurt in the crossfire.”

The gravelly, stiff tone of this voice is far more familiar. Dean smirks. The game is on.

“Oh...oh. A-are they really as bad as the rumors say?” the woman asks, her voice taking on a slightly nervous hitch.

“Absolutely. I’ve chased them myself since Leo’92. Only a few months ago they’ve managed to get away from us on Purgatory itself taking the Tablet of Leviathan with them.”

“From Purgatory? Dear Chuck! I think it’s best if I…yes I should go. Good luck, Captain.”

There’s shuffling and then the sound of loud, clicking footsteps withdrawing towards one end of the hall. Good. There’s no way Sam hasn’t noticed they’ve got company if the supervisor is this loud while walking. Captain Castiel alone would’ve been for more of a danger. Dean knows from experience just how easily the guy can sneak up on someone. It’s almost gotten Sam and him caught a few times. He guesses this is why Castiel works alone – it’s easier for him to be discreet and silent. That, and his insufferable impatience and rudeness of course, Dean thinks.

That’s when he sees Castiel shuffling through two shelves a bit further down the library, Plasma-gun drawn. If he looked in Dean’s direction there’s no doubt that Dean would be seen, and damn it if hat thought doesn’t make his blood pulse with anticipation. This, he much prefers to useless sulking, the thrill of a risky escape or maybe even a fight. Castiel hasn’t been lying to the supervisor, he’s been pursuing the Winchesters for a while now, and this game of cops and robbers is almost as exhilarating to Dean as actual treasure hunts and robberies themselves – which of course has everything to do with fighting a worthy opponent and nothing with Castiel himself.

But Castiel doesn’t look his way and is out of sight fairly quickly and Dean uses his chance to climb out of his hiding spot, sneaking off in the opposite direction. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know where Sam is, they’ve been doing this for years and barely need to agree on check-points out loud anymore.

Sure enough, as soon as he’s in sight of the huge-ass door Sam comes out from behind one of the shelves, arms full of books, a light grin on his face. The books would be in the way if it come to an actual fight but at least it seems they got what they came for, whatever it is.

They make it out of the hall without a sound and hurry to get to the giant fungus under which they’ve hidden their Hoverboards. Sam stows his books into the duffle bag he brought, slinging it across his shoulder. The weight visibly throws him off his balance as they take off the ground but they don’t have time to worry about it as they hear the door to the hall slam open and see Castiel emerge. He hasn’t seen them yet, hovering silently almost directly above his head, and Dean quickly signals Sam to take off into the Fungi-forest where they’ve landed and hidden the Impala. Sam nods and complies, flying still slightly left-sided and Dean allows himself to watch him fly away for a moment before sinking down slightly towards Castiel.

The Captain is in the process of applying portable hover-gear to his boots and if Dean were anyone but Dean Winchester he’d be worried – Castiel has the advantage of newer, faster hover-technology, and the fact that instead of a board he only needs his shoes makes it much easier to maneuver them. But Dean is Dean Winchester and no one’s gonna catch him that easily. So he puts on his best shit-eating grin and clears his throat.

“Looking for me, Sweetheart?”

Castiel spins around, his icy blue eyes burning with familiar fury as his gaze meets Dean’s.

“Winchester”, he says, his voice dropping almost impossibly lower than usual. “You shouldn’t have given yourself away like that.”

“And why is that? Is the big bad wolf going to eat me?”

“I don’t understand that reference but if it means that you’ll be in prison when the second sun rises, then yes.”

Castiel lowers his hand to his boots while he speaks as if to finish clipping on the last strap of hover-gear, but Dean’s seen the bulge in his pants, knows about the holster around Castiel’s calf and ducks out of the way just as Castiel pulls his plasma-gun and shoots, missing Dean only by mere inches.

Dean takes off then, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder at Castiel who’s finally finished applying his hover-gear and starts lifting off the ground. He drops down a bit as he reaches the edge of the Fungi-forest, so that he’s flying roughly at the height of the largest Fungi’s gills. Castiel is hot on his heels, but where his new and shiny hover-gear adds speed and mobility, Dean’s Hoverboard will keep him stable as he rushes through (and sometimes against) the enormous Fungi of X5-494. He drops down a little lower and takes a sharp turn to the left just as another plasma-beam buzzes past his ear. He’s slightly relieved to see that it’s blue, only meant to stun him instead of being downright deathly. Still, if he’s hit he’s going to fall and at this height and speed there’s no way he’s coming out unharmed.

He takes another sharp turn, almost going back in the direction they came from. He doesn’t have time to look back and check whether Castiel kept up as he rushes towards a particularly dense patch of Fungi, their gills slapping him as he flies through them. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s mushy and gross, his face ending up grimy and wet but he’s determined to use the extra advantage of his Board’s stability against his pursuer.

His right wrist pings then where the interchip is bound to his arm. It’s Sam, signaling him that the Impala’s ready to take off. Dean taps his wrist twice in reply, a shortcut to tell Sam to get into the air without him; he’ll catch up in the air. He turns his head for a momen and startles slightly when he realizes that Castiel is much closer to him than anticipated – much closer than he should be. Dean probably shouldn’t be pleased at that.

He shifts his weight backwards, rises slightly above the lower-grown Fungi and quickly scopes the area, deciding that he needs a sneakier way to shake Castiel off. An idea forms in his head when he sees a river making its way through the forest about five hundred yards away from him and he drops again, flying towards it in a zigzag pattern to avoid being hit by Castiel’s Plasma-gun.

He reaches the river within a few minutes, and drops down to fly as low as he can without touching the water. A quick check confirms that Castiel is still close, even closer than before. He’s flying as low as Dean, his face stern and focused until he meets Dean’s eyes again. His eyes narrow in suspicion but before he can come to any conclusions Dean grins and shifts his balance. The rear end of his board starts tipping into the river causing a steady spray of water and Castiel is too slow to evade it, causing him to fly directly into the icy drops, effectively shielding Dean from sight. A plasma-ball flies past him but it’s far off to the right, nothing like Castiel’s usual precision and definite proof that Dean’s plan worked – for now. Dean turns his head front again, and just in time as the river makes a turn to the left, a golden opportunity. He flies to the right instead, vanishing in-between a thick patch of Fungi when he hears a loud thud followed by a splash.

Suddenly Dean feels very cold.

He slows down and turns, heart pumping quickly. His fears are confirmed when he sees Castiel floating in the river, face down, unmoving. He’s being washed down by the current and Dean doesn’t think twice before flying up to him. He crouches, mindful of his balance, grabs Castiel’s arm and pulls him towards the river bench. It takes a little effort to get the unconscious man out of the water once the river stops carrying most of his weight, but Dean manages even if Castiel comes out of it a little worse for wear. Dean quickly steps out of the snaps holding his feet on the Hoverboard and puts his hand flat on Castiel’s chest, glad the man’s anatomy is human or at least humanesque enough for Dean to know where the heart is.

Relief floods through him when he feels the steady thump of Castiel’s heart against his palm but it vanishes when he realizes that the man isn’t breathing. Dean’s eyes fall to Castiel’s lips. He knows what to do, has done it before in different circumstances but this is different, more nerve-wracking. He lowers his head towards to Castiel’s, absently noting how nice his lips look, pink and slightly chapped as if bitten in frustration.

Castiel opens his eyes then, tries and fails to breathe in and starts coughing water right in Dean’s face. Dean startles away, wiping his sleeve over his eyes in disgust. Castiel is still coughing and Dean takes pity on him, carefully extending a hand to pat the man on his back, telling himself it’s only to check for the Plasma-gun. There is no gun – Castiel likely lost it when he fell into the river but Dean doesn’t stop patting Castiel until the coughing stops.

Feeling slightly awkward, he clears his throat.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Castiel looks up to him then, tilting his head sideways and narrowing his eyes even more than usual. His face would probably look blank and unaffected to pretty much everyone but to Dean’s astonishment he finds puzzlement written all over Castiel. He’s gotten good at reading Castiel without noticing it. Huh.

“Yes”, Castiel says, frowning. “I am okay. Thanks to you, I suppose.”

Dean shuffles under Castiel’s gaze, feeling more awkward with each second passing. This is nothing like their usual interactions. “It’s no trouble. Couldn’t just let you drown, right?”

“I…suppose.” Castiel is still staring at him and it’s way more intense than Dean is comfortable with. He wonders what he’s supposed to do or say now. Should he run? Sammy is probably waiting, maybe even worried. He’s pretty sure Castiel wouldn’t come after him now – without his Plasma-gun he has little means of actually arresting Dean.

“Why did you do it?” Castiel asks then. “You killed all these people, why not just let me die too?”

Which, what?

“What?”

“Don’t try to fool me, Dean Winchester! I’ve seen the trail of dead you and your brother leave behind everywhere you go – Alistair, Azazel the Hutt and countless others… I’ve seen what you’re capable of! So would couldn’t just let me drown?”

“Dude what the hell? Alistair and Azazel were monsters, slave-owners and torture masters and far more shady than Sammy and I could ever be! And even then we killed because we had no other choice – it’s us or them! Just because they’ve got the money to buy silence from your corps doesn’t mean they’re poor innocent victims you asshole!”

Dean’s angry now because yes, he may be a pirate but he’s never actually killed an innocent and he really doesn’t need to take this kind of shit from someone who doesn’t even know him and whose life he just saved. He gets up and turns around, ready to hop onto his Hoverboard and get the hell out of here as fast as he can. He doesn’t get very far though as a hand grips his arm and spins him back around.

Castiel is standing close, too close, far closer than socially acceptable by any norm. Dean wants to squirm away but there’s something in Castiel’s eyes that pins him immobile, freezes him on the spot.

“Is that true?” Castiel asks, voice so low it’s almost a whisper and it’s making Dean’s head spin. He searches for words, finds none and opts to nod instead, jerkily moving his head up and down just once. He expects Castiel to let him go then but instead the other man takes his face in both hands, holding his head in place firmly as he lets his eyes travel over Dean’s face. He seems to find whatever he’s searching for there, nodding to himself before his eyes meet Dean’s again.

“You are not the man I thought you to be, Dean Winchester, but you are a criminal. Don’t think this will change anything.”

And honestly, Dean doesn’t know why he does it, isn’t thinking straight but the next thing he knows his lips are pressed against Castiel’s and everything seems to freeze.

Dean feels a shiver run down his spine – Castiel is cold, after all the man was almost drowning in an icy river mere minutes ago but his lips feel impossibly good against Dean’s. It’s over as soon as it begun, Castiel’s hands dropping from Dean’s face, his whole body stiffening. Dean breaks away quickly, stepping back, distancing himself from Castiel.

Shit.

 _Shit_.

Why did he do that?

Castiel is looking at him, wide-eyed, and Dean’s face feels impossibly hot. He’s vaguely aware of his mouth opening and closing as if to say something, but the words don’t come.

The familiar rumble of the Impala in the air above him is a blessing, and he doesn’t think twice before he jumps on his Hoverboard, doesn’t even bother with the safety snaps for his feet and then he’s up in the air. He thinks he can hear Castiel’s voice behind him but it fades away quickly as he flies higher, rising above the Fungi-Forest and towards the very welcome sight of the Impala. He decides to ignore the way his heart races and how his body feels hot all over. It’s time to put a few planets, if not a Galaxy between him and Castiel.

He has treasures to steal and money to make.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to continue this. It's been too much fun to write and my mind is bursting with storylines (I've got most of it set).
> 
> Still in need of a beta, if you're interested it's best to send an ask to my tumblr http://waitwuuut.tumblr.com ~ 
> 
> Any mistakes are still & unfortunately my own, so feel free to correct me if you find any!

Sergeant Zachariah’s voice has always annoyed Castiel, but today it’s even worse than usual. Castiel seriously contemplates simply closing the connection. He doesn’t of course and opts to clench his jar in frustration instead. At least it’s only a vocal connection instead of a full hologram.

“…and it’s not that you’re doing a bad job, Castiel, not at all. You’ve gotten closer to them than anyone before, I know that, everyone knows that, it’s just that as long as we don’t have them your efforts aren’t really worth shit.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. This is nothing he hasn’t heard before, nothing Zachariah hasn’t said before, and he wonders why the man still bothers at all. He knows he won’t be taken off the case – at this point he’s pretty much the only chance the Host has at ever catching the Winchesters. He stays silent as Zachariah’s voice continues talking from the interchip on his wrist, his mind wandering back to his most recent encounter with the Winchester brothers.

Dean.

Castiel simply doesn’t know what to make of the man. Ever since he starting trailing the brothers he’d thought they were not only criminals, but truly bad people. No laws, no morals, no responsibilities. They used to _repel_ him.

Now, he simply doesn’t know what to think. Dean saved his life, despite knowing that letting Castiel drown would give them a huge advantage over the corps of the Host. Not only that, from what he’d said afterwards Castiel has reason to believe that the evidence surrounding some of the Winchesters’ victims’ deaths has been corrupted, either to manipulate him or to protect said victims’ allies. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Castiel, he knows the Host is large, too large to not have a few moles here and there, but if slavery is involved the law is usually strict and just, as it should be. It’s also not unreasonable to believe that the Winchesters and their ever-growing wealth and influence were seen as a threat by criminal organizations.

And then there’s the kiss.

His lips tingle just thinking about it even though two days have passed since it happened. He’s no stranger to Dean’s flirting, the slightly smarmy lines have been thrown at him whenever they crossed paths right from the first time they met. Castiel knows that flirting is second nature to Dean (he has been trailing the man for over a year now), knows the flirty comments were mostly used to infuriate him and get him to lose his concentration. Had Dean intended the same when kissing him? Had the situation been any different, there would’ve been no doubt of that. But…Dean had blushed. Actually blushed. The entire debacle was incredibly confusing to Castiel.

“… I expect to hear from you soon, Castiel. Let’s hope it will be good news”, Zachariah says before ending the connection without so much as a goodbye or reply from Castiel. He doesn’t mind though, his thoughts still on Dean’s lips and how soft they’d felt against his own.  
  
Damn it. He tells himself to snap out of it. One confusing kiss won’t change anything. The Winchesters are criminals and he’s the one who will hunt them down and arrest them. He’s pretty sure he knows where they’ll go next and so he starts tipping away on his interchip.

This time, he’ll be prepared for whatever the Winchesters, for whatever _Dean_ throws at him. This time, he’ll get them for sure.

> 

The black market on X5-207 is bursting with life when Castiel arrives. It’s unsurprising, X5-207, also fondly called Shadow by its inhabitants, is home to one of the biggest yet safest markets in the Kansas Galaxy. It’s considered safe because most of the surface business may be smuggling stolen goods or illegal substances, but it’s mostly small fry the Host doesn’t care much for. Castiel knows that if he were to arrest, well, anyone at this place the big fish would be long gone by the time he figured out where the real business goes down, or even who takes part in it.

He knows who he’s looking for though, and not to arrest him either. Benny Lafitte has been known to associate with the Winchesters even before Castiel was assigned to their case, and Castiel knows where to find him. The born Purgatorian had opened a snack bar on Shadow about 5 years ago, and while Castiel was sure that he’s also open for business that has little to do with cooking behind closed doors, the Host has never been able to prove anything. The Nest, as Benny calls the establishment is a go-to place for the Winchesters as well as many others. Castiel doubts that they would ever travel through the Delta-sector without stopping by the Nest, and if they have goods to sell there’s a good chance they’ll be staying on Shadow for a while.

Thankfully the Nest is not too far from where he landed his ship the Vessel since the bustling mass of people in the tiny alleys of the market make any sort of public transportation impossible. Castiel makes his way through the crowd slowly, ignoring the suspicious, tiny bags, shiny ship-parts and smelly fruits offered to him on the way.

Shadow is home to a wild mix of species going from pure humans to sharp-toothed Purgatorians, ancient Leviathans and furry Farnlim. He’s pretty sure he’s passed a Wendigo too, but since there’s nothing he can do about the man-eater so he simply tries to make his way through the crowd faster. Here, it doesn’t matter what you are as long as you either have goods or money.

Sometimes Castiel wishes the Host would be similarly accepting. The corps is officially open to all species to apply for, but it’s still made up mostly of humans and Castiel, who is 3/4 Novakian, has had more than enough trouble being accepted. Becoming a Captain had seemed impossible, but he’d worked twice as hard as anyone else in the Host, and eventually the sneers from his colleagues had lessened as they’d learned how much of an asset he could be to them.

It’s not much longer until he spots the Nest, its dark façade well hidden behind a booth selling brightly colored fruits. It’s so inconspicuous that any of the low-level scumbags on the Market doubtlessly would’ve simply passed by without noticing it. It’s certainly not the sort of place you accidentally stumble into so Castiel squares his shoulders and raises his head a bit higher in a mock display of confidence –he doesn’t want to look like he’s sneaking around as to not make Benny’s clientele suspicious. For the sake of getting into the Nest without unnecessary trouble he’s bought a glamor even, smooth green skin and red hair of a Cherub replacing his dark mop and scruffy chin.

The inside of Benny’s snack bar is a stark contrast to the inconspicuous outside; it’s bright, warm and welcoming, customers chatting amicably over their drinks. It’s obvious these people know each other as their conversations carry all across the room, across the small, round tables the Bar is stuffed with. Castiel walks past them, not too fast and not too slow, straight to the bar.

He hasn’t actually seen Benny Lafitte before, only ever heard of him in reports about criminals he’s supposedly connected with. He is very much unlike Castiel expected, especially considering he’s from Purgatory where only the hardest make it, and few of those ever get to leave the place at all. The man behind the bar seems far too soft for the tales that surround him, friendly blue eyes, scruffy beard and a low carrying voice as he laughs at one of his patron’s tales. It’s only when he opens his mouth to speak that his origins betray his friendly appearance as he flashes two rows of razor-sharp teeth. But then again maybe it is as much of an unassuming façade as the exterior of his bar, Castiel thinks as he takes a seat at the bar and makes eye-contact with the man.

“New here, huh?” Benny asks him, seemingly friendly. Castiel doesn’t trust it one bit. This is a test, he’s sure of that.

“A friend recommended the place to me”, he replies, meeting Benny’s gaze head-on. He’s always been good at holding eye-contact without blinking. “Best Vasheyr on the planet or so I’ve been told.”

This earns him a smirk and a steaming mug finds its way to him not much later. Benny goes back to his prior conversation as Castiel starts sipping the thick, purple liquid, enjoying the cool beverage in the slightly overheated bar (Shadow’s climate has always been too hot for him to be fully comfortable). He’s not sure if he’s passed Benny’s test or not. He hasn’t been offered dubious special services nor does anyone invite him into any of the conversations but he also hasn’t been kicked out so he decides to simply stick around and wait for a bit.

He knows the chances of actually running into the Winchesters in here are low, and getting an opportunity to arrest them in here where they’re surrounded by allies is even less likely, but if they stopped by he’d at least be able to overhear some of their plans.

Not wanting to raise suspicions, he opens a useless file on his interchip just to seem busy as time passes. Nothing interesting happens for about two hours apart from a probably highly intoxicated Farnlim attempting a striptease on one of the tables, much to the amusement of everyone but Castiel who’s becoming increasingly frustrated knowing the time he can safely spend in the Nest is ticking away. He hates being unable to do anything but wait and hope that a hint regarding the Winchesters’ whereabouts will just miraculously drop down from the sky but unfortunately this is something he’s almost gotten used to in his year of chasing them.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when a stressed looking redhead drops down two barstools away from him, drops her head on the bar and demands the biggest glass of whatever Benny has to offer as long as it’s cold.

She gulps it down far too quickly, wiping her mouth after she’s done while Benny’s watches her curiously. The girl slams the glass back down on the bar with a curse.

“Those morons”, she hisses, frowning. “Why do they never listen to me?”

“What are they up to this time?” Benny asks, mirroring the redhead’s grim expression.

“Some goddamn last-minute R! Apparently a shipment is going to be brought to Big L’s personal mansion tonight and they want me to get into the system for them – but did they even scope the place or give me any security details? Noooo, of course not. Blergh.”

What she says is a whole lot of nonsense to Castiel. It’s a whole lot of nonsense in general, a code, obviously. While there’s no way for him to figure out what exactly she’s talking about, he’s pretty sure what, or rather who Big L is. The Host has been surveilling Lilith for a while now, suspicious about how quickly Shadow’s current Mayor rose to power after the mysterious death of the previous Mayor. Nothing could ever be proven of course, but the suspicions haven’t been cleared either and Castiel knows that a few of his colleagues are working undercover in her residence.

“You’re kiddin’ me”, Benny blurts out, probably louder than intended and he looks around sheepishly before lowering his voice. “They don’t really wanna go get into Big L’s unprepared, do they?”

“Yepp.”

“How?”

“Ugh. Apart from me getting into the Big L’s interface which, by the way, is going to go terribly wrong and we’re all going to die, Sasquatch and some buddy of his will simply walk through the door with the least security, whichever that will be.”

Benny snorts at that. “Foolproof.” Castiel silently agrees with him.

“You’re telling me.” The redhead says with a slightly manic grin. “Gets better though. You know about the flat, giant prism roof Big L has? Apparently Freckles decided it would be a good idea to get up there and check it out in case things go downhill.”

Castiel perks up at that. Freckles. Dean has Freckles. Could it be?

“You’re kiddin’ me.” Benny says again. “That fool! How is he even gonna get up there? The Hovergrid on Shadow hasn’t been working for years! No, don’t tell me. He’s climbin’, isn’t he?”

The girl just nods. Climbing up Lilith’s mansion? That sounds just like the sort of reckless thing Dean would do. Either way, Castiel decides to check it out. He doesn’t know what kind of transaction is supposed to go down or what Freckles and Sasquatch are planning to do but it’s the only lead on the Winchesters he’s got and he’s looked into hints with much less to go on before. Freckles and Sasquatch as codenames fit their description far too well.

“So when’s it gonna go down?” Benny asks, still frowning. To Castiel, he sounds concerned.

“Sometime tonight, we don’t know when exactly. Which is why I gotta get ready like, yesterday. I just really needed a drink and well, I thought you should know about this in case anything goes wrong”, the redhead says with a sigh. “Freckles wants to be up there by Nightfall and I’d rather be as prepared as I can. See you around Benny.”

She gets up and turns to leave, shoulders slumping.

“Hey kiddo! Take care of ‘em, you hear me?” Benny calls after her and she turns around, giving him a weak smile before she gets out the door.

Castiel stays for about another hour before he leaves, careful not to let anyone connect his departure to the girl’s but with enough time to prepare and get to Lilith’s mansion before nightfall. Since Sam is likely to be with another person and Castiel doesn’t know which entrance to the mansion he’ll use he’s decided to go after Dean instead, meaning he’ll have to get up to the roof without being noticed. If possible he’d also like to see what Lilith is up to, which means he’ll have to time Dean’s arrest perfectly.

His body is practically vibrating with anticipation as he makes his walk back to the Vessel to get the necessary equipment for the climb. If things go well tonight he might arrest the Winchesters and possibly get concrete evidence against Lilith. It’s going to be an eventful night for sure.

 

> 

Nightfall finds Castiel perched on top of the prism roof, hidden between two marbled statues of winged Lyth. About twenty of these statues surround the prism plate that is inserted in the flat roof, making them look as if they’re guarding the place from above. Normally he’d frown at the indulgence – statues on a roof are a nothing but a waste of money – but now he’s grateful to have something to hide him. With sunset, the green shimmering mist so typical of Shadow had descended from the surrounding mountains. Castiel isn’t sure whether the mist is a blessing or a curse; it certainly makes hiding easier, but now the smooth prism he’s standing on is getting too slippery for his comfort.

The view underneath his feet is as pompous as the winged Lyth next to him. Covered beneath thick layers of prism is what had been a large dining hall mere hours before. Now, the ornate tables and chairs have been cleared out by Lilith’s staff, leaving behind a spotlessly clean golden floor which Castiel suspects might be actual, real gold. Lilith’s fondness for purgatorian gold in particular is well known on Shadow and Castiel doesn’t doubt for a second that Lilith can afford gold floors. The walls of the room are draped with long, deep blue curtains, all of them fully shut.

Castiel wishes he had any idea just what is about to happen in this room – it really could be anything; a semi-illegal sex party, an unregistered fighting cage, drugs… the possibilities are seemingly endless. He has to remind himself firmly that Lilith is not what he came for and tries to ignore how it gets harder and harder to focus on arresting the Winchesters tonight.

His feet are just about to fall asleep when he hears rustling from somewhere beyond the roof’s edge. Not soon after, a hand appears on the ridge of the prism, then another one and eventually, Dean’s face appears, flushed and sweaty with exhaustion. Apparently he really had climbed up here manually; Castiel has to begrudgingly respect the pirate for his skill.

Castiel had simply taken one of the painfully slow but useful gas-fuelled levitators. He hates using gas-based technology, and with good reason too – thousands of years ago humanity had destroyed its home planet by overusing gas-based motors. The consequences were severe, and after several failed attempts at a planet-wide switch everyone was forced to watch the planet slowly become uninhabitable.

With a grunt Dean hefts himself onto the roof completely, lying down to catch his breath for a second. Castiel, determined to watch first and arrest later shrinks a bit further behind the marble Lyth. It blocks his view of the room beneath him but his focus for now should be on Dean anyway. Anything Lilith does can be reported to the Host and will be dealt with later.

Dean’s pushing himself up on his feet now. He’s wearing a belt with various tools clipped to it, and he’s unfastening one of them as he cowers over one of the corners of the prism roof. Castiel cranes his neck a little and sees a plasma-cutter in Dean’s hand. His heart beats rapidly in his chest as he realizes Dean hasn’t come here simply to observe – he intends to get through the roof and into Lilith’s mansion for some insane reason. Castiel can’t let that happen – if Lilith is disturbed in any way she will enhance future safety measurements, and if it was hard for the Host to get any evidence on her before it would be impossible after. He needs to act, now.

He silently gets his magnetic cuffs out of his pocket – there will be no dramatic escapes for Dean today. As the man starts cutting into the prism, Castiel sneaks around him, wanting to overthrow him before Dean realizes he’s here at all.

He’s almost breathing down Dean’s neck when he throws himself forwards, smashing Dean to the ground and trapping him face-down beneath him. Dean lets out a surprised yelp and starts to struggle but before he gets any leverage Castiel’s got his hands in the magnetic cuffs, bound together behind his back. He quickly flats his right hand between Dean’s shoulder blades and presses the man beneath him into the roof as he draws his gun. Without leaving up on the pressure on Dean’s back he points the tip of his gun against Dean’s neck and the man finally stills.

“I would inform you of your rights, Winchester, but seeing how often we’ve done this I think it’s safe to assume you know them by know”, Castiel says and feels Dean jolt beneath his fingers.

“Castiel? What the- how – fuck!” Dean splutters.

“I suggest you remain calm and don’t resist so I won’t have to harm you when I escort you to the Host.”

“What? No! Argh! Cas- Castiel, shit, listen! You can’t arrest me! Not today!” Dean grunts, frantic.

“And why is that?” Castiel asks. He’s finally got the man where he wants him, he’s not going to let him go.

“Because if you do, a shitton of people is going to die!” 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not sure if there's gonna be more to this (I would need a beta) so if you're interested please let me know :)
> 
> Any mistakes are my own, corrections and critique is very much appreciated.
> 
> Bonus points if you catch all the references


End file.
